


The Hole in the World

by May



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 13:37:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12482852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May/pseuds/May
Summary: There were two of them, to begin with. Two sisters, both with red hair and blue eyes.





	The Hole in the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afterism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterism/gifts).



There were two of them, to begin with; both red-haired, both blue-eyed. They grew up in an old house on the edge of Gotham, close enough to wonder about its secrets, far enough for those secrets to be little more than a murmur.

Later, Isabella kept coming upon memories, like discarded polaroids.

 

One; it rained outside, a fire crackling inside. Both of them sat with open books on the old rug by the heath. Isabella glanced up from hers in the quiet and looked at Kristen, almost to make sure that she was still there. The light from the fire brought out bright strands in her hair, and her glasses perched on the edge of her sweet nose as she concentrated. Kristen read like she was staring into a window, like the story was some place she might rather be. Isabella liked the pull of tragedy, of death and passion and revenge served cold.

Two; bath water ran, so that the room filled with steam. Isabella sat in front of the mirror as Kristen bleached lines into her hair. Kristen’s plastic-gloved fingers gently combed out strands, brushing against her scalp. Isabella leaned back into her, so that Kristen’s fingertips skimmed softly across her temples. There was pilfered wine on the side of the bath. Isabella took her glass and sipped it, letting the thick, fruity taste sit on her tongue. She felt, sometimes, as if she could be something dangerous. When Kristen was finished, she took her own glass and drained the rest of it, before letting her bathrobe slip off her shoulders.

Three; the clock ticked. It was almost time to start work, and Kristen straightened her collar. While Isabella stacked books, Kristen worked in the heart of the GCPD, organising and filing away the sins of the city. Isabella asked her about it, sometimes, and Kristen would shrug. Still, it felt like watching a fragile thing sink into a filthy mass. Isabella never really wanted that for her sister.

 

Isabella stared at her sister. Kristen was strapped to a chair, her eyes closed and her chest still. Stitches knitted her together – circling her wrists and throat, disappearing beneath her gown, like an old doll. Isabella wanted to touch her, to feel the texture of those stitches next to the softness of her skin.

She met a woman, somebody elderly and stern, hair piled high, and there was a short man in a hospital coat. The woman promised her something, and here it was. She nodded, and Isabella stepped forward. She pressed her palm against Kristen’s face, and it felt cool, but not deathly cold. If Isabella did what the woman said, she could have her sister back.

Isabella smiled and kissed Kristen on the forehead, and thought about the kind of love you’d die for, and the kind of love you’d kill for.


End file.
